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Thursday, 27 February 2014

-Our
journey in Laos has taken us south from Luang Prabang to Vientianne and onward
through the cities of Thakek, Seno, Pakse to Don Khong Island on the Mekong
River.

-We
will soon cross into Cambodia and continue to follow the Mekong River
southward.

--------------------------------------

After a fun ride in the north of Laos, Luang
Prabang proved a fun town to be stopped in for a couple of days. For the first
time we laid eyes on the great Mekong river, already a phenomenal mass of water
even this far from the sea and in the height of the dry season. With a
population of 50, 000 it was big enough to provide us with a few treats and
comforts and more importantly some bike replacement parts (again!). Being tucked
amongst hills and at the confluence of the Nam Khan and Mekong Rivers it all adds
up to being a pretty pleasant place to hang out.

Mekong River from Phousi Hil, Luang Prabang.

Monks and Bamboo Bridge, Luang Prabang.

Yet more hills awaited us as we set out again on
the road south, each day consisting of at least one big climb and plenty of
ridge top undulations, passing through villages of woven houses, some nice
forest land interspersed with deforested slopes, and into dramatic limestone
karst country. After three days we very suddenly dropped from the hills and
exited out onto expansive flat lands like we’ve not seen in our whole year of
riding.

Enroute to Vang Vieng

Back into dramatic limestone country

Out onto the flatlands and long straights

Getting
in the groove of flat land riding has proven to be quite a change, each day
achieving many more kilometres but with less variety with which to stimulate
the mind as we rolled on down into Southern Laos. In Laos there are two
distinct seasons, wet and dry. Right now we are nearing the end of the dry
season meaning that far from my misconception that all of South East Asia would
be green and lush we have found a land that is dry, dusty and largely colored
in shades of brown. To be honest we’d both say the recent days riding have held
the least interest for us of our whole trip, yet we had a curiosity for this
area and that curiosity has now been met, so we hold no regrets whatsoever.
Even among the mundane there is plenty to observe and mull on…

In
the north we loved seeing hoards of kids commuting to school together on push
bikes.Unexpectedly, from our short
observations, motorbikes seem to be the more common mode of transport in the
south, even amongst young school students! As the push bike is making a
resurgence in much of the Western world I suspect here there will be a
continuing trend toward racing around on a motorbike for some time yet. How the
world swings in strange roundabouts!

What a beautiful sight!

We
rode with a group of really nice kids as they went home for their lunch break from
school. We’ve come across very little English language in Laos (other than in
tourist destinations) yet to our surprise in this relatively remote village
these kids could all speak easily with us. I suspect it’s a result of one very
motivated, committed and skilled teacher at the school. It’s quite phenomenal
to think of the impact that this teacher will likely have and the opportunities
that may well open up for these kids as a direct result. I’m not suggesting
that speaking English is the be-all-and-end all, but let’s be honest with the
world the way it is being an English speaker has huge advantages. What a
reminder it is that a great teacher can have a big impact!

Joining the commuters.

To
save ourselves a little time we took bus journey through some of Central Laos.
We opted for the “local bus” rather than “VIP” bus in order to save $6.The 350km journey, on well sealed, straight
flat roads took 8 hours! Why? Breakdowns, re-loads, unloads, flaming vehicles
blocking the road, picking up passengers from another broken down bus, and
plenty of mystery stops with no explanation for anyone on board!

Road blockage. Eventually we raced by so we'll never know the outcome of this drama.

Laos
food isn’t too bad, we just find there’s not always enough of it to fuel our cycling
engines. As our return to NZ gets ever closer I find food is becoming more and
more of an obsession and several times now food crises have arisen! The
greatest challenge is not simply the lack of food it’s just not quite knowing
what food sources lie ahead. Will we get a hearty feed of eggs and rice and
bananas for lunch, or will be left stranded with a measly little noodle soup?!
The term ‘food security’ has taken on a new meaning for us!

Food crisis victim.

I
don’t know if it’s a result of natural atmospheric conditions or a consequence
of all the burn-off that goes on at this time of year but each morning we see a
stunningly beautiful sunrise. The sun glows orange through the haze and can
easily be looked directly at. A pretty reward for those 530am wakeups!

Dawn beauty. Possibly a result of atmospheric pollution.

Even
amongst the northern hills many of Laos’ rivers are navigable by motorboat and
so a strong river culture has developed. Now that we’ve reached the flatlands
the Mekong has gained a huge volume, has widened, and is home to a larger
population and a lot of boating. We’ve entered a river-life where commuters
take ferries, tourists cruise on site-seeing vessels, and men buzz about
casting their nets from small sleek craft to make their living and feed their
families.

Ferry boats

Cruise boats

Work boats

Sitting
on Don Khong Island gazing over the river we pour over the maps in excited
anticipation that we will now more or less follow this river to it’s end point,
the Mekong Delta in the South China Sea. The river began it’s journey on the
Tibetan Plateau and runs 4350km to the sea. We too began our journey on the
Tibetan Plateau but by the end of it in just three weeks will have taken a
slightly more convoluted journey to the South China Sea…via Morocco!

I’m sitting at the fireside of a friend’s small roadside inn
one evening when a traveller descends in from the cold to join our circle. His
feet are dusty, his sandals well past worn-in. His walking stick looks strong
and business-like and it fits the curve of his hand like a long-time friend. His
robe is fringed with the same frayed and dusty look as his sandals, and from
the folds of its fabric as he moves through us to settle into his seat waft
intriguing scents – the incense of Eastern temples, fragrant spices from the
South, the sharp tang of the northern forests.

Through the evening as he quietly, slowly tells us tales of
the far-off lands he has trod, we listen spellbound. As he paints pictures with
his words, our imaginations flesh it out still more. Mysterious, alluring
something like a dream but with more colour and surprise. The strange foods we
hear of are as heavenly feasts, the battles with wolves and coldness are tales
of epic triumph, even the endless burning deserts are glorious austerity.

Scene Two, last
year:

I’m sitting on the cream synthetic leather couch at 67
Hillary Street, Dunedin, the MacBook Pro warm on my lap, a cup of peppermint
tea growing cold on the coffee table while I pour over a blog showing photos of
Tajikistan’s Pamir. The raggedy endlessly-stretching road, even the slightly
leaning wooden power poles, the dusty looking bicycle, all speak to me of
adventure. The frames of photographs are small peepholes to some other wonderful,
fascinating world. Brightening each of them, suffusing every object and place,
is the intoxicating aura of mystery. Everything glows with a kind of otherworldly
light. Even the snapshot showing an overnight snowfall blanketing tent and
bicycle with a painfully freezing white crust produces in me a warm thrill at
the glorious hardships and triumphs of high adventure, and I long to take part.

Scene Three, last
month:

Ollie and I laze on the stained gold coloured quilt of a
Vietnamese guesthouse, watching a slideshow run though of a random selection of
our year’s photographs. We exclaim, sigh and reminisce over a bright Kyrgyz
morning, a bread-stop in Georgia, a Turkish coast road. A photo flicks up of
Vietnam hill country, and we are quiet. It is too fresh. Our older photos have
gained a glow of nostalgia that this does not yet have. Instead it has an
almost unsettling quality, reminding us that there is work still to be done to
navigate our way safely and successfully through this part of the world, still
guesthouses, roads, food and water to be negotiated and attained. I know that
within a month’s time, when this chapter too is complete, this photo will glow
as brightly with nostalgia as the others around it. For now though it is
present, and that is too raw and not altogether relaxing.

Scene Four,
recently:

I pull out our map of Central Asia, and look at our
wonderful winding route through Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. My mind
flashes back to the map in the front of the book I read at home, “The Great
Game: On Secret Service in High Asia”. Now our map of the area has memories attached.
The names of little villages spring up for me an image of a friendly encounter,
a confusing intersection, a particularly good bread oven. The high passes have
a 3D and almost a physical memory, I know their height in my legs and lungs,
and know the exhilaration of their drops. All so precious. But I wonder if it
comes at a cost. I know these places with a different quality than I knew them
as I read The Great Game. I’m not certain that these places have not lost some
of their size for me. My eyes have seen the peaks, my bicycle wheels have
rolled the trade routes, and I have been deeply blessed and in ways changed by
them. But the thrill of mystique that made the peaks soar beyond comprehension
in my imagination has lessened.

Scene Five, today:

We cycle the road out of Thakkek in Southern Laos. The road
we have chosen is a flat road by the mighty Mekong River, fringed with palm
trees, orange dirt and a motley collection of housing. Away to the west of us
is a line of great looking forest clad karst hills. Appealing in the mystery
they hold, they are just out of reach of this journey of ours, leaving us to
wonder in curiosity what it is hiding over there. Our ride can only ever be one
line on a sprawling map. There are always things just off our map that are
tantalizingly unexplored. What is it like further up the Bartang Valley? How
about in South Eastern Turkey? What is it like to ride in the Dolomites? Massive
thankfulness for our amazingly full journey precludes any regrets, but does not
squash a curiosity in the next hills over, the other road, the country across
the border. Terra incognito (land unknown) will surely always be alluring!

Concluding thoughts:

I am not sad to not go everywhere in the world. I am
massively happy that we have been given a world that as hard as a person tried,
they could never reach the devastating position of having “seen it all”. I like
it that some things are left to the imagination, because imagination can give
so much delight! When we hear or read a tale, unbidden our mind builds worlds
of pictures, pictures that seem deep with concept, feeling and wonder. I love
it that for me, the ideas of the frozen Far North, where snow-covered forests are
filled with bison, wolves and bears and the huge ice covered rivers lead out
into a stark endless sunset tundra, are just that for me, just ideas. Ideas
huge in their aura of mystery and wonder. Enriching me even without a physical
encounter.

We look forward to getting home and watching some David
Attenborough documentaries, reading more tales of daring exploration in
the Himalaya and Pamir, finding out about recent Chinese history, keeping tabs
on dam projects on the Mekong and finding “terra incognito” on the rough tracks
behind Swampy Summit, Dunedin. So many ways to love and delight in this
fascinating world. Our bicycle journey this year has given us questions,
encouragements, sadnesses, curiosities, revelations. We have been challenged
and enriched by experiencing the world in this way, and when we are back home
we will carry all this with us, although we’re still unsure all the ways that
that will play out. For certain, we will continue to find delight both in the
intoxicating aura of the world's distant wonderlands, and in exploring the terra incognito that
is there for the finding not that far from the back doorstep.

Saturday, 15 February 2014

- We rode across the Vietnam - Laos border at Dien Bien Phu to enter northern Laos.
- We spent one week cycling on the quiet hilly main roads and then a dirt backroad to get to the city of Luang Prabang.
- Our route was Namnga, Muang Khoua, Pak Nam Noi, Oudomxay, Pakmong, Nong Khiaw, Viang Kham, Sam Soun, Pakxeng, Luang Prabang.
- After a couple of days resting in Luang Prabang we now coninue our ride south towards Vientiane.

A Laos Morning

I think a part of me will be

always

riding these roads.

This morning cool air on my bare arms and

breakfast in my belly,

a hill under my wheels. Heart, lungs, legs

working strong and clean.

Bright morning mist glowing around me,

lip prickling droplets as I turn my face upwards seeing

white giving way to hot blue.

Smells of vegetation,

sounds of birds and people

calling out as they work.

Happy sounds.

And around the corner the happiest – is it not

for us all? –

Children’s brightness, speedy hands waving, clear voices

calling, bare

feet running in the soft dusty verges.

Scurries and shining grins, a giggle.

And the youngest

watching steadily, small feet planted squarely on the earth,

all that is solemn in their large eyes and careful quiet

greeting. Fresh in reverence at the

sacredness of a meeting.

Here

where I am riding these roads forever and

this morning.

Anna

First Impressions of Laos

The reports we'd heard had all been rave reviews: "so peaceful," "very friendly," "highlight of South East Asia,""cycling paradise." So it was with pretty high expectations that we crossed the border last week, if also with some uncertainty about just how well we could really find all these claims met. It took all of about five minutes to realise that there was a huge difference on the roads - a near absense of motorbikes, or of any traffic at all. It really was peaceful, and we relaxed very happily into cycling the empty roads with a backing track of bird song and insects in place of the motorbike engines and tooting. Any stress left from the last week oozed off us into the quiet bush-covered land.

This legend of Laos friendliness was the next one to be overwhlemingly verified. As we rode into the first bamboo and thatch village we were greeted with the greatest celebrity welcome one could wish for, with children leaping up from their games and appearing from behind or within huts to greet us with calls of "Sa-bai-deeeeee!" (hello), sometimes followed up by the boldest spokespeople with "Thank you! Okay!! I love you!" This was accompanied by the most physically rigourous arm waving I've encountered. The adults, while not so flamboyant in their welcome, were equally warm in their returns of "Sa-bai-deee" as they worked, cooked or sat gathered in groups in the shade of their doorways.

So far in northern Laos we have seen people living with less of the mod-cons than we encountered in neighbouring Vietnam. A lot of cooking is done over open fires, a large number of houses are built of natural materials (wood, bamboo, palm), loads are carried by foot and a lot of back breaking labour appears to be put into gathering and processing by hand certain plant crops. Interestingly, alongside this we have noticed a greater international presence, with offices of NGOs such as World Vision, European Union marked trucks, Chinese road and dam building projects and China-Laos partnership hospitals and buses. After our time here, we will watch with interest how Laos develops in the next years and decades. Laos was known from the 14th to the 18th century as "Xan Lang", which translates to "Land of a Million Elephants", and we've learnt that it's rich forests have also been home to tigers, bears, monkeys, gibbons, snakes, rhinos, bats and a multitude of birds. The government has set aside a number of National Biodiversity Conservation Areas in an effort to protect these, but of course there are also significant pressures from deforestation for timber and farming, population growth, hydroelectric projects and mineral exploration. While we have enjoyed the bush-clad hills and relatively clear looking rivers, we have seen some of these pressures and realised it is not quite the unspoilt jungle paradise I had half hoped to find.

The main two cautionary notes that sat alongside the rave reviews from cycle tourists were that in Northern Laos there are a LOT of hills, and that food can be a bit scant. So we entered the country well stocked up with Vietnamese snack bars and back-up instant noodles, but quickly embraced the local specialty here, sticky rice. We have marvelled at its incredible qualities. It sits in the stomach like a happy brick, leaving you feeling full even after its energy-giving properties have well expired. It has a wonderful clumping ability in its stickiness, so that it is best eaten as finger food, pulling off pieces and dipping them in chilli sauce. It is sold in half-kilogram lumps for 80cents a pop, and can be taken as a takeaway lunch in small plastic bags. We have also enjoyed omelettes, noodle soups and the occasional bread roll, but they can't compete with the fill-for-money qualities of sticky rice!

The hills have been formidable at times, but wonderful. We really are passionate hill-cycle tourers, to the point where I'm a little anxious how I will find the upcoming flat lands of southern Laos and Cambodia. The bicycles though will be glad of some flatter land coming up I think, with signs of wear and age now coming rather thick and fast. Although we have replaced Ollie's bottom bracket, the rims, brakes, pedals and tires are all keeping us on our toes! Anyway, before we quite hit those flat lands, we have three more days of spectacular sounding hills as we make our way south towards the capital city Vientiane. I can't wait!

Sunday, 9 February 2014

-North
West Vietnam provided us with a few more days and a few more km’s of lovely cycling.

-We
had the bottom bracket (the piece where your pedal cranks pivot around) break
down on Ollie’s bike. This took a week and a whole bunch of bus journeys,
problem solving and patience to get replaced.

-We
have now entered Laos, our 14th country of the trip. It is a
splendid place to be!

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“Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

In
our minds cycling through Northern Vietnam would consist of two phases; the
first stretching north from Hanoi up to Lao Cai, a city bordering China on the
banks of the great Red River; and the second phase from Lao Cai through
Vietnam’s tallest mountains and then south to Dien Bien, our gateway to cross
the border into Northern Laos. As it turned out things weren’t quite that
simple!

Life in the fast lane. Descending from Vietnam's high places. Sapa.

Temporarily lost on a backroad near Lao Cai

Contemplative valley riding. Lai Chau to Muong Lay.

On
Jan 30th the Vietnamese saw in their New Year. The ‘Tet’ holiday is
the biggest event of the year and in the days and weeks beforehand we’d witnessed
their preparations. Families were gathering, blossom and mandarin trees were
being carted around on every motorbike, fattened pigs were being killed, and apparently
gold fish and budgies were being released.

Typical Vietnamese rural scene

As
is the sad case with many folk, I saw in the New Year crouched over a toilet
bowl hurling out the contents of my lunch. No alcohol had I consumed, not even
a shot of rice wine, just a seemingly innocent Chicken noodle soup that turned
out to be not so innocent after all. The Vietnamese were singing, fireworks
were exploding, and I was rushing between my bed and the bathroom, violently
emptying my stomach. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!” (“Happy New Year!”)

Jan
31st dawned sunny and clear and my little bug appeared to have
passed, the Chicken Noodle soup had all but passed out of me. From Lai Chau we
cycled off into the new year, a little weak but in good spirits. The first 80km
went well enough and then with a ‘clunk’ and a ‘crack’ and the tell tale wobble
of my pedals I ground to a halt. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

My
bottom bracket had decided that after offering its services for 13 000km it had
done enough, it’s journey was over. I can’t complain really, that’s a fair few
pedal revolutions it’s allowed me to do. But to carry on our way we’d have to
find another, so the search for bottom bracket number two began. We set to
work!

To
sum it up in brief, we pushed bikes up hills, we waited for buses, we spent
unplanned nights in unmarked villages, we rode on long haul bus journeys, we
waited for bike parts to arrive, we navigated the chaos that is Hanoi once
more, and we bartered and begged in chaotic bus yards to get us and our bikes
on journeys at a time when all of Vietnam seemed to be traveling. The whole
week has been a patience-testing, problem-solving fiasco. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Wating for a bus. This one never arrived.

“No
bus to Dien Bien.” I couldn’t believe what I was being told. 36 hours earlier
this same woman had assured me buses would leave at 6pm and 7pm from this
station to Dien Bien. After a bit of fossicking and haggling it really did
appear there were NO buses to Dien Bien.

“Take
bus number 16 to My Dinh,” said another women, My Dinh being another station in
Hanoi, a long way from where we were, in a direction we did not know, in a city
of 9 million, in the middle of a chaotic public holiday. Bus 16 being an
overcrowded local bus which we didn’t stand a chance of getting on with our
bikes. With no map and no ideas we were stumped. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Stumped
that is until Anna and I both simultaneously had the same stroke of genius. If
we can’t ride on the bus…let’s ride behind the bus! As Bus 16 rolled out of
the yard we were hot in pursuit. For 12 crazy kilometres we sprinted and halted,
we inhaled hot and stinky bus exhaust, we hollered and giggled, and as night
fell we arrived victorious at My Dinh station…only to find all buses to Dien
Bien were booked.

“Please
come back tomorrow sir. No we cannot sell you a ticket. Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Hot on the tail of Bus # 16

By
the end of Thursday Feb 6th we were relieved to have escaped the
clutches of Hanoi and be back in Dien Bien with functioning bikes, feeling like
we’d completed something special. We honestly felt victorious and quite proud
of our efforts and the fact that at no point had we completely lost the plot
despite running into hurdle after hurdle! On Friday Feb 7th we rode
out of Vietnam and into Laos, the work of the last week made our entry oh soooo
sweeeet!!

Celebratory feasting on western goodness. Medicinal for recovering stomachs.

Not the most remarkable photo at first glance but the first opportunity we've ever had to photograph a border post. Usually they're surrounded by armed guards, this time we had to rouse the slumbering guard from his post-lunch siesta!

Finally we've arrived in Laos!

Chuc
Mung Nam Moi!! Thankyou Vietnam for a Tet New Year we will savour forever!!

20 metres later...a flat tyre! What a welcome!

Afterword

HUGE
thank you to Hazel Murray for showering us with warm hospitality and great home
cooking during our spontaneous stay in Hanoi and for pointing us to some great
shops where we could indulge in some yummy treats!! This bike-breaking cloud
most certainly had a silver lining! Thanks!